(Chris Ackerman, Marcus N. Colon) Into d**, At eleven years of age Town of Northport Ricky's head all in a rage, Deny authority, Drugs worsen everyday, Using pot to selling meth, Stepped where demons play. Once in a bookshop, Wired on "L", One book seemed alive, Reaching on the shelf, saw his future, Relaxing in his hands, Ricky's eyes widened, As he saw the title,: Satanic Spells, Book of the Dead. Now was time, For first incantation, Pentagram, cats skull, Satanic reputation, Hanging out at Midway, Possessed and full of hate, Offered Christ, spit in His face, Ricky sealed his fate. Out on the streets, And out on his town, Here sits the acid king, Upon his paper throne, A line was crossed, Gary stole some meth, "No one steals from the acid king!" He muttered under his breath. Aztakea woods, The acid kings holds court, He screamed blasphemies, As the knife met Gary's throat, "Say you love Satan!", Ricky uttered for reply, "No, I love my mother!" Gary cried as he died. Bragging to his friends, On what he'd done, Evil shows true colors, Busted murder one. Satan is no future, Usurper is dethroned, Hanged himself in a prison cell, This Judas met his end